Merry Christmas began with opening presents under the decorated tree. Excited fingers tore colorful paper and wonderful gifts were revealed. Wishful whispers exploded with excited exclamations, until only one package remained. The box was wrapped in stained brown paper, the unaddressed object smelled strange. Sissy claimed the thing, she quickly opened the thing and she shoved her hand inside. Shocked and surprised, she withdrew her bloody hand! Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted. The contents spilled out upon the floor, a butcher knife and the recently castrated genitals of an adult male human.
Mommy screamed for the holy salvation of Jesus, while Daddy summoned the police. There was chaos and confusion, until the detectives arrived. The investigators took the butcher knife and the box, as evidence. They could not find the amputated organs.
Had sissy been thinking sinful thoughts? Perhaps she had brought this evil on our family, on this sacred day! Had she fantasized of being penetrated by a wicked penis? Was the missing member hiding inside her, as our relatives arrived, worried and weeping?
If the awful phallus was lurking in her innards, would she become pregnant? Could the terrible testicles still plant the seed in her fertile field? Would the antichrist be born in the new year? I suddenly knew what I must do, I heard the wrathful voice of God in my head.
Daddy kept the hunting knife in the garage. He had taught me to use the blade on deer. I snuck into the bedroom, where sissy slept in a drug induced slumber. I cut her abdomen open, from her groin to her ribs. I disemboweled sissy, slipping and sliding in her intestines as I sought the disgusting sacrifice, in the growing puddle of gore on the floor.
I searched her stomach and found only digesting ham and turkey, I cut her small intestine into pieces and found filth. The castrated genitals were evil and elusive. I dug down into her uterus, expecting to find the fetus of fornication. I found only the hollow organ and I began to slash the pelvic bone in frustration.
I remember a gasp, a shout and a bang. The officer that shot me said he was so offended by the carnage, he did not know if I was a human being. I was going to deck to halls with her guts, I had growled. The policeman shot me, a reflex of instinct.
The prosecutor showed photographs at my trial. The jurors vomited and the judge wept. The witnesses condemned me with their words, while I heard Christmas carols in my head.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except me. The detectives said I emasculated a drifter. They accused me of stashing the mysterious Christmas present, under the holiday tree. They say I am the Christmas Butcher!
Death Row is my home, now. I wait here, wishing for my execution, or my lynching. There are female guards in this prison. I think they put menses in my food. I am afraid of growing old and slowly perishing, with the bitter taste of the womb in my mouth.